


The Flower tattoo

by caycep



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Smut, Tattoo Artist Kara Danvers, lingerie shopping, ok that's only half a joke, tattoo!kink, unbearable heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-17 14:32:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15463497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caycep/pseuds/caycep
Summary: While accompanying Cat lingerie shopping, Kara finds out Cat has a tattoo and becomes obsessed with it.





	The Flower tattoo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PolarMagic97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarMagic97/gifts).



> Fill for the prompt: "Kara discovering Cat has a tattoo and then tries to get one herself to surprise her". 
> 
> I cheated a little bit, in that Kara doesn't try *very hard* to get one herself, but I hope it still works. Enjoy!

“I can't believe you're in such a good mood!” Alex said with a huff. “It's so damn hot!” she added, as she stabbed her cup of ice cream with a plastic spoon.

Alex had already made it clear she found it _frankly unbelievable_ how hot it had been getting lately. “I mean I know it’s July _,_ but I swear, summer didn’t use to be so torrid”.

Kara snickered a little. She was mostly concentrated on the ice cream rapidly dripping from her cone: the heat was so intense, the precious thing was melting faster than she could lick it.

"I'm solar-powered, remember? These temperatures don't bother me as much. If anything, it’s maybe a little _extra nice_." She sat back, basking in the sun, smiling the happy smile of the alien from outer space thoroughly unaffected by minutiae like _the weather_.

"You know what? Screw flying, I think I'd swap with you just for the immunity to heat." Alex slumped in her chair, sliding further under the parasol, as if the little shade it afforded could provide some relief from the harsh sun.

Kara smiled and turned back to the important job of absorbing calories. After a few moments of silence (and intense tongue work) she stopped, as if hit by a sudden thought.

"Alex?" she ventured.

"Yeah?" came the reply. Alex swiftly adjusted her dark sunglasses and moved a strand of hair from her sweaty forehead.

"Do you think that, if I really wanted to, and please don't judge me for it, okay? I mean, say that I really wanted to, and I'm not even sure if it's physically possible..."

Alex was already smiling. Rambling Kara was always a sign of amusing things to come.

"Please get to the point before I melt?" she demanded in mock frustration.

"Do you think I could get a tattoo?" Kara blurted out all at once. Her expression was bashful, somehow terribly embarrassed.

Alex couldn’t help but laugh in response. "Oh my God! Where is this coming from?"

“Naah, you’re right, it’s a dumb idea. Forget it.”

“Oh no, I’m curious now- since when do you want to get a tattoo?”

“It’s stupid, please, just let it go.” Kara blushed, and oh, Alex was definitely interested now, because anything that made her sister blush was worthy of her full attention.

“Spill, before I threaten to tell J’onn about this.”

“It’s a long story, and it’s kind of embarrassing - ugh I’m sorry, please know that this is not how I intended to tell you…”

“Wow this is good, quit stalling and get to it already.” Thoughts of the heat quickly forgotten, Alex’s attention was now all on Kara.

“Well, everything started a few weeks ago, when Miss Grant asked me to accompany her lingerie shopping before her date…”

***

“Kiera, you’re coming with me. I need a naive girl’s opinion for a change, not one of those wide-eyed, too-eager-to-please shopping assistants that you always manage to saddle me with.”

Kara stared at her boss, lingerie catalog still firmly clutched in her arms, while she tried her best to hide her anxiety. “Are you sure? Wouldn’t you rather I called Tasha?”

“Oh please, no, I realised I can’t stand the sight of her bangs - now chop chop, we don’t have all afternoon.” With those words, she was already halfway out of the door, and Kara didn’t really have any other choice than to follow suit, gulping down her worry and rising to the challenge.

They did not, in fact, have all afternoon, although it wouldn't have been unreasonable to assume that the boutique manager would’ve kept the shop open, and the staff available, for as long as Cat Grant desired.

If you wanted to remain on Cat’s good side (and good lord, most people had the decency to at least try), you gave her what she wanted, before she even asked for it, and took pleasure in the opportunity to serve - this at least Kara had learned in the years spent by her side, and she was determined to respect that principle at every possible opportunity.

So when she found herself scurrying after the Queen, struggling to keep up with all the glances, noises of appreciation or disgust, and various other signs that _She_ might have noticed something of her liking among the merchandise, Kara tried her best to keep tidy mental notes.She signalled to the personnel which items to assemble and what to carry away, and she was almost proud of herself when, after an hour of mulling, Cat decided to head to the changing area to try on some of the looks they’d picked out.

Until the fateful moment where all of her optimism suddenly burned up, a frightfully beautiful flame, as Cat Grant had peeked out of the curtain, a single finger beckoning her to come closer, showing a lot more skin than Kara was comfortable seeing.

“Help me get out of this dress, will you? I think something’s stuck.” She headed back in, taking for granted that Kara would soon follow. “Remind me to have a word with Damien about shoddy craftsmanship, will you? This is not something that should ever happen.”

Kara had helpfully obliged, her hands beneath a skirt she’d long dreamt of getting under, albeit under radically different circumstances. She’d held her breath and reached for the guilty clasp, the culprit and the reason for her sudden fit of perspiration; she freed the small bit of metal from its prison of garbled threads and failed to exhale promptly.

Her hand had lingered a moment too long, her gaze falling onto those legs she’d spent far too much time daydreaming about, and she’d noticed, between the creamy white skin and the lace of her underwear, right there, the unmistakable blue ink of a drawing (a floral motif perhaps, lilies?).

Miss Grant had a tattoo on her hip.

It was damn near impossible to divert her eyes. Once Kara had focused on that strip of skin, as her legs wobbled and she was forced to lean on the nearby wall in order not to fall over, she couldn’t just _move on_ \- snap out of it and forget.

There was a brief panic, until Kara realised that her efforts were useless. A hand touched her shoulder and Miss Grant whispered “everything all right, Kiera?”

 _Nothing is alright, not a thing is all right_ \- a voice repeated inside her - _nothing will ever be right Ever Again. Sleep might not be an option either, to be honest_.

Kara felt impaled, paralyzed. She wanted to drop to her knees, put her arms around the minute woman facing her and kiss the beautiful gorgeous flower painted on such delicate skin. She wanted nothing more than to lick it, taste its unique flavour - look up and see appreciation for her worship and devotion.

She looked up instead, shaken from her reverie, wrenched from a daydream - no appreciation to be found in Cat’s eyes, only heartfelt confusion.

“Everything is fine” she said. _Nothing_ was fine.

Once she managed to rush home with a lame excuse, she found that, no matter how hard she searched for relief, in the privacy of her own bedroom, no matter how hard she gripped the sheets, fingers sliding furiously inside her panties, she’d squeeze her eyes shut and couldn’t help but recall the tattoo in her mind, memory as blurry as her senses, dulled after the umpteenth orgasm.

***

“Oh my god Kara, TMI” Alex exclaimed, hiding her face, faking disgust.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Kara scoffed “Fewer details! Got it. It’s just… It’s been very hard to get my mind off of the stupid tattoo. I can’t seem to stop thinking about it.”

“I thought maybe if I got one myself that I’d stop thinking about hers? I know it’s dumb, but Alex, I’m serious, what else am I going to do? Quit?”

“Oh Kara you love your job, you practically cried when you heard you got it. I’m sure there are alternatives.”

“Yeah well, I’ve been doodling and drawing that flower on literally any surface I could get my hands on, I might be going crazy. I don’t know what options I have left.”

Alex’s face suddenly lit up, “Oh!”

“What?”

“You’ve been doodling everywhere… like say the notepad you constantly forget open on your desk?”

“Oh shit.” Kara covered her mouth with her hand, embarrassed at her own language, while her sister’s suggestion slowly solidified into a real possibility, then likelihood, then damn near certainty.

She considered her options. She could just quit on the spot, send an email to HR and never show her face at CatCo ever again. It would be easy, almost painless. After all it would only cost her the best and most fulfilling job she’d ever had, any opportunity of ever being anyone of note in the publishing industry, her entire career.

She could pretend it was a prank, but Cat Grant was smarter than that, she would see right through the farce. Besides, who even knew about the tattoo? Cat was incredibly private about her life, and this was precisely the kind of thing that she wouldn’t want anyone to know.

She had to go back, go back and pretend nothing was going on. And what if she’d left her notebook open on her desk - Miss Grant walked by her desk every day without ever paying attention to it, surely today was no exception?

***

As Kara felt her back hitting the tiles she realised that in her entire life, both on Earth and back on Krypton, nobody had ever shoved her against a wall. She had the reputation of a fierce fighter, nobody had ever dared.

But _oh_ how she wanted to stop fighting now, she wanted to say “I’m sorry, miss Grant, I’m sorry I have this stupid crush on you, I’m so _so_ sorry I got obsessed with your tattoo. I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but please take your hand off my throat? This is just making it worse.”

She gulped instead, and kept those words from escaping her mouth, as the shorter woman looked at her angrily, her brown eyes all but shooting sparks and lightning in every direction.

“You spied on me” Cat hissed, staring at her, unblinking “Don’t you have anything to say?”

“Please-” Kara ventured before choking. The tiles of the executive bathroom were cold on her back, and she kept reliving how Cat had practically dragged her there by one arm and shut the door. In an office full of glass walls, the only room that truly granted privacy was the bathroom.

“Please what? What do you want from me Kara? Is it blackmail? Did you plan on selling the story to a _fucking_ tabloid? God- to think that I trusted you.”

Even in the chaos of it all, Kara didn’t fail to notice that Miss Grant had used her name correctly. She wondered meekly what it meant, whether they momentarily dropped the usual pretense and were finally speaking at a different level, adult woman to adult woman.

“Please, it was just… a fantasy, I really didn’t mean for you to see any of it.” Kara muttered, fearful and half excited at how she might react.

  
Upon hearing those words Cat’s face changed, the tension lines began to ease, and the fury slowly melted away, leaving only a trail of surprise in its wake.

“Oh.” she said after a few long moments. The grip on Kara’s neck softened and eventually broke, her hand fell, dragged down Kara’s shoulder, grazing her forearm with perfectly manicured fingers. “I didn’t realise that you-” Cat clasped Kara’s hand in hers.

“That I was attracted to you?” Kara finished, her heart beating like it was trying to wrestle its way out of her chest. Where did this boldness come from? Where was spineless, cowardly Kara now, the one who sighed herself to sleep every night, thinking of how she’d never even dream of getting this close to Cat?

A small squeeze of her hand, that was all the warning she got, before Cat leaned in to kiss her. Kara’s body responded on auto pilot, bending towards her like a moth to a flame, a kamikaze pilot hurrying towards the ground, all perspective definitively lost, only the vanishing point, and then nothing at all.

Kara’s clothes seemed to fly off of her, one sweaty, impetuous kiss after another. Mouth open and impossibly hungry: the more her lips crashed against Cat’s, the more she sucked and licked and bit at her precious skin, the more she felt she’d never be sated.

But it wasn’t until she felt Cat’s fingers inside of her that she started getting an idea of what was going on. As she panted, trying her best to contain the moans of pleasure, she thought ‘ _I’m getting fucked by Cat Grant’_. She was propped up on the sink, bare ass on the fine porcelain, dripping juices all over her thighs and on Cat’s expert hands, and thinking ‘I’m getting _fucked’_ \- and oh it was the best thing in the universe. Better than flying straight towards the sun, Kara was sure, more breathtaking than the most beautiful sunset. She wanted to freeze that moment in her head and live it a million times again.

Cat paused to look at her, at them, their reflection in the giant mirror behind the sink: two bodies entwined in a strange sort of embrace, Kara’s bra still in place, one strap slipped off her shoulder, Cat’s arm wrapped around her waist, gripping her possessively. Kara could see Cat stare at her own reflection, on her face something akin to confusion: _maybe_ , Kara ventured in her head, _Cat’s just as shocked about this as I am._

It was only a moment’s pause, and then Cat spread Kara’s legs with her body and hugged her tighter, burying her face in Kara’s neck, leaving more kisses on her tender skin. Kara closed her eyes, making sure to savour the moment as she felt Cat’s fingers dip again inside her and her own body arch in response. All she could see, behind closed eyelids, was the perfect blue lines of the flower tattoo, dancing in her memory. She smiled, and reached for Cat’s hip where she knew the _real_ tattoo was, and her smiled broadened. ‘ _Finally_ ’, she thought satisfied.


End file.
